Second Sight
by The Bloody Shinigami
Summary: AU. Maka is a quiet bookworm with a secret; Soul is an angry boy who refuses to play piano. When they meet, both of their lives change as they discover the mystery behind a place called Death City. Eventual SoulMaka.


_**Prologue**_

_A thousand little lights._

_She stared at them in confusion. What were they? These lights were so pretty, so consistent. They moved with the people. Inside them, inside their chests, cradled at their core, glowing softly for some and brightly for others, singing, breathing, pulsing, _beating _like a heart. _

_A light entered the room - soft and warm - she thought of cherry flavoured cough medicine, unpleasant but not horrifying, something that made you feel better. She could almost taste it, almost smell it, but yet it was neither taste nor smell. She blinked, trying to focus on what was there beside the light in time to see a short woman in a white coat. She didn't understand why such a woman would be there. Her attention slipped from the woman again back to the light inside her. _

'What a pretty shade of blue', _she thought. _'So pure...' _as she stared, she thought perhaps she could make out features, but they disappeared as quickly as she'd seen them. _

_The woman was speaking to her, but she couldn't understand the words - her brain felt like sludge, oblivious to everything but the lights - so she focused on the light inside her again. The cherry cough syrup became sharper, stronger, and somehow she knew that the woman was concerned._

_She wondered if she had a light. She looked down - with difficulty because there were cords of some kind attached to her - but she managed. She could see the lights of the people in the floors below, but she couldn't see the light of her own. She could feel it, though, pulsing in time with her heart, a light, feathery tempo. _

_She frowned, trying to focus. She wanted to see the light, not just feel it. But her eyelids were growing so heavy, and before she realized it, she'd fallen asleep._

_It took a while for her to fully realize what she was seeing. That day was the first time she saw souls. _

_That was the day she nearly died._

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter One: The Meeting Over The Piano<strong>_

"This sucks," Soul grumbled, glaring up at the school he was to be going to for the next year. It looked something like a prison, with high, concrete walls, windows that looked blocked, and a huge spiked metal fence surrounding the grounds of Hastur Private School. Sullen looking children between the ages of eleven and thirteen - all wearing conservative uniforms that looked suspiciously like the ones back home - were walking up the driveway. He identified with their sullenness: it was Monday.

With a sigh and a check of his watch showing he couldn't afford to loiter outside for much longer, Soul loosened his suddenly-too-tight tie and headed inside. The inside looked even more drab and prison-like. The hallways, like the outside, were plain concrete, here and there accented with a painting that looked like a watered down cheap imitation of a famous piece. He wasn't much for art, so he couldn't remember which one, but he knew he'd seen it before.

He got about five steps into that dull hallway before he realized he had absolutely no idea where he was going. _'Everything looks the same,' _he grimaced, wondering how anyone could find their way around this school. He wished his parents had decided this before the school year started, when he could follow the normal process of things: he didn't even know his schedule.

He only stood there awkwardly for maybe five minutes when someone said, "Excuse me," from behind and he turned to see a little hispanic man frowning at his white hair. The frown let up when he saw Soul's face and realized he was, in fact, a student with white hair, and not an old man that had wandered into the building. "You a new student?"

"Yeah. I'm not sure where to go," Soul replied, trying to sound casual. He was a cool guy after all, and he needed to maintain his image. He shoved his hands in his pockets.

"The office is this way," the teacher nodded, indicating down the hall, "Let me show you."

He followed the little Hispanic man down the hall. As they went, the teacher babbled on about the school's facilities and honourable past. It was a tale that Soul only listened to up to the first sentencebefore getting bored and staring blankly at the bald spot at the back of the man's head. He was just contemplating how bright it was and wondering if the teacher shined it somehow, when they stopped walking and Soul realized they'd reached the office.

"Here you are," the man said cheerfully. "Hope to see you in one of my classes."

"Uh, yeah..." Soul privately hoped he would never have to sit through the man's lectures. He headed into the office. It, like the rest of the school, was rather plain. Standard white wallpaper lined the walls, punctuated by framed official documents. A few chairs were pushed against the wall that the door opened out of. Soul headed for the desk.

"Can I help you?" the secretary asked, once she recovered from the initial surprise at seeing him with his white hair and red eyes.

"Uh, yeah, I'm new. Parents already registered me though."

The worker nodded, "Name?"

"Soul Evans."

"Evans... right, here you are," he was handed a sheet of paper with his schedule on it, and a simple map of the building. "Nice accent, by the way, you from England?"

"Yeah..."

"Well, hope you enjoy it here," the office worker returned to sifting through papers.

Soul backtracked out of the office, looking at the piece of printed paper that would dictate his routine for the next year. A days Math, Science, Study Hall, and Gym. B Days History, English, French, and...

"Outside music lessons?" Soul snarled, coming to a stop and scaring some poor sixth grader that had been coming out of the door. The sixth grader scampered away unnoticed as Soul scowled at the schedule. Wasn't it bad enough that they dragged him to America for 'corrective lessons' on his music? They couldn't even leave his school schedule alone. Soul may have hated school, but at least it wasn't home or music lessons. He'd almost been looking forward to the eight hours of mind-numbing boredom.

The bell going off startled him out of his thoughts, and with a grimace he headed in the direction of his math class. To his dismay, he found the teacher to be the short, portly Hispanic man who'd led him to the office.

"Ah, you _are_ in my class!" the teacher, Mr Garcia, according to his schedule, looked at him. "This seat here is free."

Reluctantly, Soul slid into the seat as the teacher set a stack of papers in front of him. He flipped through them listlessly. Syllabus, supply list, and a calendar. Soul didn't pay any of them more than a moment's notice. Instead, he surveyed the teacher and wondered at his chances of sleeping in class unnoticed. Mr Garcia didn't appear too bright, but he seemed like the kind of man who thought that every moment ought to be spent doing as he told.

Thankfully, he was left alone after a moment as the teacher started to write on the board.

* * *

><p>The first thing Maka noticed that morning was that, same as every morning before, the lights were there again, moving and shining in the distance.<p>

She stared at the largest cluster of them with a small frown and a sigh, wishing they'd go away for good. She couldn't help but hope, even though it had been nearly a year since the accident.

Maka shut her eyes and focused, willing the lights to go away. Something inside her resisted the attempt, but she forced it aside impatiently, internally demanding that the lights fade. She didn't know why it worked. It _shouldn't_ have worked - whoever heard of willing away hallucinations? But when she opened her eyes next, the lights were gone, and she was suddenly tired.

Once her vision was free, she forced herself to get up and made herself breakfast. Her father had left for work two days prior, so she had the house to herself. She was used to it. He'd had to leave on multi-day stretches ever since she was a little girl. Before, she'd stayed with a family friend, but she'd convinced him she was old enough to stay home alone. That, and it would be difficult to get to school now, what with Black*Star and his adoptive parents moving last year.

She ate and prepared breakfast in the sort of dazed manner she'd found herself slipping into of late. It had been months since she'd felt fully rested, and by now she went about her day like a robot, everything happening automatically. She didn't think about what would happen if she crashed from exhaustion, or if she was unable to block out the lights anymore. All she knew was that she didn't want to end up in an insane asylum, even if she _was_ going insane.

As far as anybody but herself knew, the lights she'd talked about the night of the accident were a result of blood loss and painkillers, and nobody needed to know they hadn't stopped when she became lucid.

She hoped it'd stay that way.

At school, the gossip of the day was the new transfer student. The gossip changed almost every day, and she knew by tomorrow there would be something different. Apparently, the transfer was an albino from England. Maka didn't particularly care one way or another, even though he was likely in most of her classes due to the school's small size. She hadn't even known there was a transfer student until she'd overheard students talking.

The only times Maka looked up from her desk nowadays was when the teacher was talking or writing on the board. She didn't talk to any of her classmates, or even volunteer questions unless called on. She only spoke when necessary. She was too tired, and a part of her was scared that if she spoke, somehow, people would know about her hallucinations.

The day passed in a blur, just like every day had since school started. By the time she left, she was achingly tired, ready to pass out at any moment. Still, Maka forced herself to work on her homework.

She was halfway done when her vision distorted, making the room seem to spin, a powerful headache pounding to life behind her eyes. In the distance, she could see the lights seemingly flicker back into existence.

"Not _now_ dammit," she hissed, gritting her teeth and clenching her fists. She shut her eyes and tried to focus, but her head only ached more. She was hit by a wave of exhaustion that nearly made her pass out right there. The lights remained stubbornly there in her vision, even with her eyes closed.

She opened her eyes and picked her pencil back up and started to write, even though her hand was shaking and she had to blink back tears of frustration. When she was finally done, she shut her binder and got up, stumbling straight to her bed and falling asleep immediately, still fully dressed.

* * *

><p>Nevada - Or at least this part of it - was <em>hot. <em>It was fall already, yet it still felt like summer back home.

_'If this is cool weather, I don't want to be here in the summer.' _Soul thought, pulling off his red uniform blazer as he walked to the music store across the street. He was ditching his music lessons for today on the pretence that he'd gotten lost. It wasn't exactly a lie, because he'd probably get lost on the way for real.

Rather than spending a few hours wandering around the city aimlessly, it would be much more pleasant to spend his time at the music store. Maybe they'd have some records; he didn't mind CDs, or mp3 players, but he really enjoyed listening to records. There was just something really cool about watching the record spin.

The music store had AC, to his relief. The sudden blast of cool air when he stepped inside actually made him shiver. The store wasn't small, exactly, but it wasn't large, either. It made up for that by being stuffed with items up the the ceiling. Two walls and several shelves in the middle of the room were stacked with CDs. Another held old music and records. On the last remaining walls, there was a small selection of guitars up against a wall, next to them a selection of picks and tuners and other things necessary for playing the guitar.

Soul relaxed, even though he hadn't realized he'd been tense. There were no pianos there in that store to taunt him. He hadn't even realized he'd been anticipating - and dreading- seeing one. He started purposefully towards the records and was stopped by a customer who'd been browsing the CDs.

"Hey, kid, you go to the school across the steet? You're out early." He was a tall, dark-skinned man in his mid twenties, with his hair in dreadlocks and a basketball shirt. The man quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Uh. Yeah. I have a free period right now," Soul lied. The man gave him a look that plainly said he didn't believe him. Soul wondered if he was going to get him in trouble, but instead the guy laughed.

"Hey, don't worry about it. I'm not the kind of guy to meddle with other people's kids affairs. I skipped plenty as a kid. Actually, I wanted to ask you something."

"What?" Soul asked cautiously.

The man looked back at the CD racks, "See, my son was complaining the other day that all I listen to is Pink Floyd, so I figured I'd try looking for something new. But I'm not really current on music. D'ya know any good ones that my son'd like? He's about your age."

He might've just told him to ask the clerk, but it was hard to resist when the guy put it like that, so obviously wanting to try to understand his kid better. He wondered if his parents would've ever listened if he told them to try something new... They'd probably just give him a strange look and ignore him.

"Uh... Well, I'm not really sure what people listen to here. I know a lot of people my age listen to Katy Perry, Kanye West, Usher, and Eminem, but... What kind of music does he like?" Soul wondered how exactly he'd gone from hiding from music lessons to giving music advice.

"He listens to a lot of rap and heavy rock."

"Kanye West and Eminem are both well-known rap, as for rock..." Soul scanned the CD racks, pointing out the ones that were more popular, the ones he'd heard were good, and the ones he personally liked. He hadn't noticed how much he was talking until the man took the stack of CDs he'd picked out and grinned at him.

"You know a lot about music. You play anything?"

Soul's mood darkened, but he tried not to let it show. So much for trying to distract himself... "Sort of."

The man changed the topic, somehow sensing the disturbance. "Anyway. Thanks, kid, really. Sounds like this stuff'll be good."

"You're welcome..." Soul watched him pay for the CDs and leave, before turning towards the jazz section.

When he figured he'd been there long enough and went home and his parents asked why he hadn't gone to the lesson, Soul simply told them that he couldn't find the location, making it sound like he'd wandered around lost for a few hours.

They decided to have a car take him to his piano lesson from now on. He wasn't pleased about that, even though he'd known he wouldn't be able to use the 'lost' excuse more than a few times. He'd have to come up with some other reason not to go, or at least not to play.

At least the block schedule had bought him another day to think about what to do. His next lesson wasn't until Friday, since Monday was a 'C' day that had shortened versions of each class, and there wasn't time for a piano lesson in that. When it came down to it, the teacher couldn't force him to play, but that wasn't going to prevent his parents from punishing him. No, he'd have to come up with some reason to avoid it.

Soul wolfed down his dinner and went upstairs. His family had hired movers, so even though they had only been there a week, everything was unpacked. He plopped down on his bed, grabbed a controller, and started up a game, hoping to drown his worries with a few hours of mindless shooting things before bed. He still had no idea what to tell the instructor to avoid playing.

Perhaps he could feign an injury, or illness. Or complain of too much homework to do lessons. He couldn't think of many other options. If it came down to it, he just wouldn't play, and suffer the consequences. It didn't matter. After all, the punishment for not playing couldn't be any worse than playing his strange music.

Soul wasn't going to play anymore, no matter what his parents did. He was just too tired of their reactions when he _did_ play. It may not have been the best means of rebellion, but it was all he could think of. If they weren't going to appreciate his playing, then why should he play? No amount of lessons was going to change his mind.

* * *

><p>Despite her exhaustion, Maka automatically headed for the mailbox on her way home and flipped through the envelopes inside. Bills, advertisements, and a small paperback book placed within a neat yellow envelope. She'd ordered the book online last week. With a sigh, she tucked the book under her arm and carried the mail inside.<p>

'_Why do I even bother?'' _Maka thought irritably to herself. _'She hasn't sent me anything in two years.' _And yet, she always was the one to check the mail, hoping that maybe, just maybe, she'd get something _this time_. No such luck.

She set the book on the kitchen table. The bills and advertisements she dropped into the stack waiting for her father to check when he returned from work

He was supposed to be back three days ago. Every night, he'd called to apologize for having to stay another day. Maka predicted another call in an hour or two. The house felt empty without him, sad and cold, and she couldn't help but feel lonely.

"Stop being sentimental," Maka whispered furiously at herself. "There's no way you miss that stupid Papa. It's his fault Mama left, after all."

The words sounded hollow and unconvincing to her. With a grimace, she stormed over to the kitchen table to open her new book, intending to drown her troubles in its pages.

It always worked. By the time the phone rang, she was too absorbed in her book to even hear it the first two times. By the third ring she'd heard it, but she simply ignored the phone, not wanting to talk to her father.

Beep.

_"Maka, answer the damn phone already! Your future God is calling!"_

Maka looked up with a start at her best friend's voice. She was smiling by the time she picked up the phone. "Hey Black*Star."

_"Hah, knew you were ignoring the phone."_ The boy on the other end laughed loudly. _"Of course you could not ignore the Great Me as soon as my amazing voice was heard."_

Maka just rolled her eyes and smirked. Black*Star was the most arrogant person she'd ever met, but he was a good friend. "Or maybe I answered because I knew if I didn't, you'd leave messages until I did."

_"Nah, it was purely your worship of the Great Black*Star. So why were you ignoring the phone?"_

"Papa will be calling soon to tell me he can't be home tonight. I just didn't want to talk to him."

The mirth faded from Black*Star's voice. _"Dude, he's still not back? He's been gone for a week."_

"I know..." Maka sighed.

_"Too bad we don't live close by anymore. Otherwise you could totally hang out here," _Black*Star said.

"Maybe if you hadn't gotten into that fight-" Maka started guiltily, but Black*Star cut her off. She could practically hear him roll his eyes at her.

_"Maka, for the hundreth time, the only thing I regret is that I didn't manage to get him expelled with me."_

Maka smiled softly, "How's your new school?"

_"Eh, same old boring crap. Was more fun when I had you to explain it in a less-boring way."_

She supposed that was his way of saying he missed her. "Yeah, it can be a bit dull without you yelling at the teachers all the time."

_"I don't yell at them_all _**t**__he time."_

"No, only _most _of the time," Maka agreed with a laugh.

_"Well, we've only got one more year after this and then we'll be in high school together! Can't wait!"_ She could hear the smile in his voice.

"Me neither. God, it's so weird not to see you every day."

_"I know, how will you ever survive my godly presence?"_

"I'm sure I'll manage somehow," Maka laughed.

_"So, made any new friends yet?"_

Maka froze. She'd been dreading that question every time he called and every time her father came home. "No," she said in a fake cheerful voice. "I've been too busy with schoolwork to make any new friends. You know me."

_"Maka, what's wrong?"_

Maka cringed at the tone of his voice. It was the type of voice he'd used the day he'd gotten expelled. "Nothing's wrong."

_"Liar. You can't hide anything from The Great Me."_

"How is it you can make even concern sound egotistical?"

_"I'm serious, Maka. What's going on? Are you getting bullied again? 'Cause I swear I'll-"_

"I'm not getting bullied." Maka said honestly. "Nobody's bullied me since then." Nobody had really talked to her since then either, but she didn't care right now.

_"Alright... I believe you. On _that _anyway."_

"What about you?" Maka countered. "You haven't talked about any friends."

_"None of the weaklings here can handle my greatness."_

"Right. Whatever you say."

_"The Great Black*Star always knows what he's talking about!"  
><em>  
>"Uh-huh."<p>

_"Shut up."_

"I didn't say anything."

_"Whatever." _She could imagine him sticking his tongue out at her and making a face. She made a face back and he snickered.

"Anyway... I've got homework to do, so I gotta go."

_"We're still hanging out Saturday after next right?"_

"Unless one of us spontaneously combusts."

_"Right. See you then!"_

"Bye!"

Maka hung up the phone. Almost immediately, she sagged. It was a lot easier to be energetic when talking to Black*Star. She'd completely forgotten about her exhaustion. Black*Star was just that kind of person. But now that the phone conversation was over, she was ready to crawl into bed.

She hadn't even started on her homework, though, so she resigned herself to another exhausting hour.

* * *

><p>He hadn't managed to evade the lesson by Friday. The car had picked him up and dropped him off, and though he couldn't see inside its windows from where he stood outside, he knew the chauffeur was watching, making sure he actually went inside. The lessons were held in a small studio, with the AC blasted enough that he shivered when he walked in, from the sudden temperature change.<p>

"Mister Evans?" The piano teacher was a short, plump old man with only a few tufts of white hair left above his ears. He smiled at Soul, but he privately thought it seemed a little fake and forced. He didn't smile back.

"Yeah."

"You're right on time. This way," he led him down the hall to the piano. Soul couldn't help but admire it a bit: it was a grand Bösendorfer piano, cared for enough that it looked brand new. His fingers twitched at the sight. He curled them into fists, resisting the urge to play.

"I figured we'd start with some sight-reading to see what you know already," the teacher said, placing some music on it. Soul shook his head.

"No."

"Excuse me, Mister Evans?" The teacher frowned.

"I don't play," Soul said.

"Mister Evans, you're here for lessons and-"

"I don't play," Soul repeated. "Not anymore. I'm sorry my parents wasted your time, but it's not gonna change." So much for his clever plans.

"Mister Evans, wait-"

Soul left. He was going to be in so much trouble when he got home...

The rest of the weekend had not been fun for Soul. He'd been grounded and spent most of the week hiding out in his room. On the few occasions that he came out for food, he'd gotten into arguments with his parents. And it didn't always stop with arguments.

His back ached horribly.

For once he was grateful for school, and left early. He practically collapsed into his desk in math class, resting his head on his arms. There was only one other person in the room this early, a blonde girl with pigtails who, like him, was resting her head on her arms, only he was pretty sure she was asleep.

Soul didn't bother trying to talk to her. He wasn't very sociable to begin with, and he wouldn't want to be awakened if he was asleep. Actually, it sounded like a good idea... He shut his eyes.

He jerked awake to the sound of the bell ringing for the start of class, not having been aware he was asleep. With a groan, he sat upright, cringing when the movement hurt his back. He really wanted to go back to sleep.

He made a half-hearted attempt at paying attention for the first ten minutes of class. The rest of it he spent staring at the board with a glazed expression, hoping whatever they were learning wasn't important and trying to think about a movie he wanted to watch instead of anything uncomfortable, like how his back still hurt.

* * *

><p>It was getting worse.<p>

Her head ached, a pounding in her skull synchronized with her heartbeat like some cruel melody. Her eyes were shut and she pressed her face into the pillow, straining to block out the onslaught of images that had caused the headache. It was no use, she was spent for the day, all she could do was whimper quietly into the pillowcase as the images and strange sensations she could not describe overwhelmed her. Her heart beat faster and harder, making her head pound all the more.

_'Breathe,'_ she urged herself. _'Deep breaths. Focus on something else...'_

She was too tired. Her thoughts were too difficult to manage. She could barely focus on keeping herself from hyperventilating.

With the last of her strength, Maka looked up at the clock on her bedside table. 7 PM. She'd gotten most of her homework done, but not all. It bugged her to leave it unfinished, but she couldn't focus. She was _so tired_ and her head hurt so much... she reached forward and set the alarm clock for the early morning, hopefully enough time to finish her homework. With that, her head fell back down to the pillow and she fell asleep.

* * *

><p>A week passed with no change. Every time he had a lesson, he'd managed to evade playing, more often than not receiving punishment in return. He was at his breaking point.<p>

"Dammit," he hissed as he marched down the hall in a random direction. "I'm sick and tired of this!"

He'd be in trouble for skipping later. His father would yell, maybe worse, and his mother would simper with disappointment. He could envision their words already, without needing to hear them. They'd tell him that he was ruining their image, that they didn't come here to America on a vacation, that every Evans family member had played an instrument and why couldn't he play it and play it _right?_

Soul halted abruptly. His wanderings had taken him through the school and landed him outside a room with a grand piano in it. The door had been left open, as if taunting him, but none of the classrooms nearby were occupied. He was the only person in this side of the school. Nobody to hear if he played. Just for himself. Nobody to hear the dark notes of his frustration, the sinister tone that always came out when he played.

Alone- just him and a piano.

His shoes clicked on the floor and resounded ever so slightly. Good acoustics, for a little music room in a private school. Perfect for a little piece, enjoyed only by himself. He was hardly conscious of moving, but then there he was, taking a seat at the piano bench, straightening the tie of his uniform out of habit and resting his fingertips lightly on the ivory keys. He played a scale, testing the piano. It came just as he knew it should.

With a deep breath, he lowered his hands to the keys again and began to play the melody he had composed recently, the melody he'd been so fond of but that had been the catalyst for this entire excursion. He leaned forward, abandoning posture as he attacked the keys, not caring how it made his bruised back hurt. It only made the harsh notes of his song becoming still more discordant, tempering his pain into the music. His mind went blank, all he could see was the piano and all he could hear was the melody he was playing.

His song ended abruptly, just short of jarring. He took a deep breath, surprisingly winded.

"Don't stop."

The soft, but almost alarmed voice came suddenly behind him and he jerked, nearly falling over in his haste to discover who had spoken. The girl flushed, as if she'd only just realized what she'd said. She was small, maybe five feet tall, with a slender, delicate looking build - the natural kind that came of thin bones and a fast metabolism. Her face was soft-featured with a small nose and big green eyes the same shade as the leaves back home during spring. When he met her eyes, she blushed and looked away, red blossoming over fair skin and pale blonde pigtails swaying with the motion.

He stared at her, and she stared at the floor to her right. After a moment, she falteringly spoke again. "S-sorry, I-I'll just... go now..." she shuffled slightly in the direction of the door.

"You said not to stop," Soul intercepted. He was confused and intrigued. His music was sub-par, and there was _something_ in it that made people flinch away, something that never failed to scare them. The only person who seemed to enjoy it was his brother.

But this girl had said not to stop.

"W-well, you play really well," the girl said. "It was so pretty, I _had _to stop and listen."

Something about her made him smile, a grin that revealed his sharp teeth that people shied away from- he usually smiled with his mouth closed for this reason. He saw her eyes widen for a split second, but there was no negative reaction, just mild surprise at his odd teeth. His grin widened, and he turned back to the piano, words spilling out of him almost unknowingly, so relieved to have someone _accept_ his playing. If she'd accepted that one, maybe..."This is the kind of guy I am..." and he began to play again. He had never committed this one to paper. It was just a tune he'd seemed to always know, as long as he could remember. It was the one his parents hated most, and it still made him wince to remember the beating he'd gotten for it.

It was rougher and dark than the one before. It seemed almost chaotic and random at times, but it carried a set rhythm to its undertones, consistent and regular amidst the disheveled notes. He'd played this song once or twice in private, because something about it had always seemed personal, fit to be shared only at the right time. Something told him that time was now, in front of this girl who'd asked him not to stop playing.

He shut his eyes and his breath aligned with the tempo of the song, with his heartbeat. Again the world melted away without a trace, leaving only him, the girl, and the piano.

The song ended with several notes pressed in unison, and to clapping. Soul turned again to see the girl approaching, a wide smile on her face, confidence apparently bolstered. "That's _amazing!"_

Soul raised an eyebrow at her. "You must not have much of a musical IQ."

Her smile turned into a scowl and she flushed, "Music's an art and any art shouldn't require knowledge of it to be appreciated! I like what I like, and obviously I like your playing!"

"My playing is creepy and untalented." He snorted. He'd only heard otherwise from Wes and he was never sure whether or not to believe him. His parents hated it, after all.

"Can't you take a compliment?" she huffed, sounding almost hurt. He suddenly felt guilty. "Insufferable-"

"Gah, look, sorry," Soul rubbed his temples. "I, err... I'm not used to compliments. Not about my music."

"Oh," her voice went soft again. There was a brief pause and then she slowly extended a hand to him. "I'm Maka."

He looked at it for a moment, before taking it. Her hand was small enough to fit in his easily, and her skin, while not calloused, felt strong. They held the grip for a moment as Soul smirked at her. "Soul."

"Nice to meet you."

And they let their hands drop.

* * *

><p>AN: Thank you for reading the first chapter of Second Sight. If all goes as planned, this will be a fairly long fic. I am working on illustrating it, and there will be a link to illustrations up on my profile soon (Unless you are reading this some time after posting this chapter, in which case the illustrations will probably already be up).

That being said, while I don't intend for this to surpass the T rating, I do not typically censor. This is in some ways a growing up story, and both Soul and Maka are just beginning to discover puberty and the discomforts associated with it. If it disturbs you to think of twelve year olds having issues with that (Despite that being the age when it happens), then you may not want to read. There will not, however, be any sex.

The only side pairing that may or may not show up in this is Ox/Kim, Eruka/Free, and the canon weird hate-lust thing between Medusa and Stein. There will be other things going on in a separate fic (When I actually get to points where those characters interact). I want to try to keep this main fic open to anyone who enjoys Soul/Maka.

I hope you enjoy.


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